Dawn
by SpiritualEnergy
Summary: In their finest glory. [Rei & Hilary]


**Title: **Dawn  
**Rating: **T  
**Author: **SpiritualEnergy  
**Pairing: **Rei/Hilary  
**Summary: **In their finest glory.  
**Disclaimer: **Beyblade © Aoki Takao-sama.  
**Author's Notes: **It was bound to happen.

* * *

_Just one more day, one more day…_

_**- Skillet **(A Little More)_

_

* * *

_**Dawn**

**

* * *

**So she wonders how long he plans to sit like that, or if he has a way of his own that only he knows because he has done it more than once before. And she realizes that she is tired. She dreams of sleep and all of its glorious contentment, and she can feel herself dozing off just a little, but…

…_and then he turns, and he seems almost surprised, and almost as if he has never seen her before…_

…he blinks, stopping his movements abruptly as if he were a toy whose batteries have just run out. His posture reeks of politeness as he straitens, and she hates that posture, because…

…_she can see herself reflected in the mirror he has been holding, the image protruding into her thoughts, giving the door a knock before breaking it down and…_

He speaks, the sound deep and broad and smooth and _oh so _quiet in the shimmering waves of the dawn. "Hilary," he whispers, and she feels herself bring a hand up to her brow, the sweat clinging to her like…

…_making her feel naked under the layer of clothing she wears, though he is modest like always, and decides to…_

Rei slouches slightly, and seems to loosen his shoulders as his hair pools down around his shoulders, so soft, so raven, so –

- she let out a breath -

- and he let out a cough.

Hilary grumbles under her breath that he is unable to hear, and she takes a hushed step into the room, radiating her own glory as her hair flows past her shoulders _just a little_, and her hips sway _just a little _as she takes a seat in back of him, feet tucking underneath her haunches -

_- and it has become the same posture as his, though so very different, in a glorified way -_

- and lets her eyes roam to the brush in his gloveless hand, and takes in his appearance, and is silently cursing him for having prettier hair than her, so long and with such splendor –

She realizes she wants to touch it. Just a little.

_Hilary wants to be greedy for just a few moments. No one would know._

But she will know. And she will feel the uncanny after affects of it all later. And he will continue to be polite and nice and strong and glorious and it will make her want to crawl into her little hole of plainness and of dreary thoughts that she will suffocate in.

"Rei."

_Her voice seems far off and foreign even to her own ears. She feels detached._

"Hilary."

_And he sounds as close as he is._

"Good morning," she greets with a smile, like she always does.

She sees him nod. "Morning." He turns his head down to stare at the brush for a moment, as if thinking, and then returns to staring at the wall. "You're up early," he comments, as if he realizes it for the first time.

She nods as he has done, though she knows he can't see her. "Tyson was snoring," is her simple, yet complete answer.

He laughs then, just a little, and he sounds so real. "Again?"

"Again." She wants to let him know the double-meaning behind her reply.

It is quiet again, and the air feels –

_- chilled, she wonders how far away she is and how close he is. She wonders if he thinks such thoughts of a distant dream that she can only taste on the tip of her tongue – _

- and he seems patient with her once again, turning his gaze to her with the intensity of golden liquid that runs down his glimmering face and past her perplexed form, and she can see his question in it.

"So," he says. "Are you hungry?"

_Yes. She is very hungry._

She shakes her head, and sits and waits for him to continue his grooming, though he sits and does some waiting of his own. "I'm fine. You look busy."

"Ermfh," he replies. He runs a hand through his hair, and Hilary's mouth falls open slightly as she realizes the hand looks _detached._ "It's always such a mess in the morning." His answer seems to be handed to her on a silver platter, though she decides to be picky about it for today.

"But you seem to be doing a good job with it." She hands the plate back, asking for something else. "You have such long hair."

He stops for a moment, his hand falling off his head and in his lap again, and he seems to reattach himself. "The only thing is that it can be a hassle with brushing." His eyes roam over to his side, and he places the brush down, and picks up his headband.

…_she realizes the window is open, for all on-lookers to gaze through._

She stares at the lone object, and she reaches out, and she can practically hear the smile glide across his face. She brings it up in front of her, and turns to ask him if she can use it just like in her distant dream –

- and she feels her insides flutter with glee as she sees he is already in posture. She can feel the smile this time. She feels herself reattach.

Hilary runs the brush through his long hair. Pulling, watching, slipping, smiling, greedy, and she doesn't even feel guilty.

She feels the tangles, and adjusts her position so that she slouches, and realizes that she can be the glimmering one for now.

Dawn sure is glorious this morning.


End file.
